“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Byron asked Eris an hour later when she went to visit him.
“Why would I have a reason to doubt Reina?” Eris replied.
Byron leaned back in the settee and rolled his eyes. “Charles wasn’t secretly in love with you, Eris. He had another reason for talking his naïve cousin into befriending you.”
“What other reason could there be?”
“Money.”
“Charles didn’t marry me for money.” If only Eris had been able to find that book! But what if Jonathan hadn’t kept a book that recorded where he went and whom he talked to? What if Byron had suggested it but Jonathan hadn’t done it? “I looked all over the townhouse, but I couldn’t find a small book that Jonathan wrote in. Can’t you just believe me when I say that Charles isn’t a murderer?”
“I believe facts. I believe evidence. I’m sorry, Eris, but how you feel can’t be the basis on which I make a judgment in this situation.”
“But Reina told me he set things up so that he could get better acquainted with me. Do you think Reina is lying?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. My instincts tell me that Reina was as deceived as you were. Charles is the one who’s hiding something.”
“I already told you what it was.”
“I realize you and Reina believe that story, but Charles wasn’t hiding the fact that he secretly admired you from afar. That’s only the kind of thing you’ll read in love stories. Gentlemen don’t go around plotting ways to get into a lady’s company because they’ve fallen in love with her. They just go up and start talking to her.”
“Not everyone is as bold as you are. Some people are shyer than you, and Charles is one of those people.”
“Charles is not shy. You’re mistaking his silence for shyness.” When she groaned, he added, “How long have I been a Runner?”
“Fifteen years.”
“As of last month, it’s been sixteen years. I know what I’m doing, Eris. I’m not a novice at this. My instincts are right. Charles is hiding something, and it’s important you’re careful around him. If he suspects you might have figured out what he’s doing, you could suffer the same fate Jonathan did.”
“He didn’t kill Jonathan! Jonathan was his friend.” How many times did she have to say this? Accusing Charles of lying to her and Reina about the secret admiration part was one thing, but she refused—absolutely refused!—to accept the premise that Charles had murdered Jonathan.
“Then let me investigate things for myself,” Byron said. “Let me into the townhouse. I’ll see what I can find.”
“There’s nothing to find. I told you that there is no book.”
“There might be something else.”
“If I let you search the townhouse, will you stop accusing Charles of murder?”
“Only if I’m convinced he didn’t do it.”
That was as good as nothing. Her not finding a book hadn’t been enough. What made her think that finding nothing else would get her brother to stop this nonsense?
“Please, Eris. Let me into the townhouse. I need to do a thorough search of the place. What I’m looking for could be outside Jonathan’s bedchamber.”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it’ll do any good.”
“It might make the difference for your safety.”
“Charles isn’t going to hurt me. He loves me.”
“What is the harm in letting me search the place so I can be sure of that?”
It should be enough for her to tell him that Charles wasn’t a murderer. She wondered if he would believe her if she was a gentleman. While he’d never made her feel like she was daft because she was a lady before, she was beginning to feel that way now.
But if she didn’t let him search through the townhouse, things might get worse. He might start following Charles around or start doing things to seriously antagonize Charles. Maybe if she let him go through the townhouse, he would find nothing—because there would be nothing to find—and then relent.
“All right,” she consented. “Come with me if you want to look through the townhouse.” She stood up and gave him an expectant look.
He rose to his feet. “Thank you. I won’t be long. I know where I need to search. I’ll get my hat and coat, and we’ll be on our way.”
She sighed and waited for him to get ready to go to her townhouse.
***
The constable set the button and the note on his desk. With a shake of his head, he said, “These don’t prove anything.”
“Why not?” Charles asked.
“Because anyone could lose a button for any reason in any location. I was there the morning Jonathan’s body was discovered. As you requested, I searched the bedchamber. This button wasn’t there.”
“That button was under Jonathan’s dresser,” Charles said. “It was pressed up against the floor and the wall. It was easy to miss.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“Just because you didn’t see it, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. Even I missed it when I searched through the bedchamber. I only found it this morning.”
The constable paused for almost a minute before saying, “It isn’t my intention to upset you, but is it possible that this button came off at some point after Jonathan’s death? Jonathan’s widow might have had a gentleman visit her.”
Charles stiffened. “She would never do such a thing. She’s not that kind of lady.”
“Then I am forced to make another conclusion, and you’ll like this one even less.”
Charles couldn’t imagine what could be worse than the constable accusing his dear and lovely wife of sharing a bed with someone she wasn’t married to, but he asked, “What other conclusion can there be?”
“It’s possible that you can’t accept the fact that your friend died of natural causes. I understand the friendship you two shared was important to you. No one likes to discuss death. Even though it’s something we all eventually face, it’s a very ugly reality. We spend our lives pretending it’ll never happen to us or those we cherish. Given Jonathan’s age, I propose that you convinced yourself he was murdered.”
Charles couldn’t believe what he was hearing! “I’m not an unreasonable gentleman. I’m well aware that people of all ages die. What I know is that Jonathan was healthy. He didn’t have an illness. He wasn’t sickly.”
“Death can be sudden. Not everyone has a warning it’s going to happen.”
Charles closed his eyes so he wouldn’t start yelling. When he opened them, he felt more in control of his emotions. “That button was under the dresser. Someone snuck into Jonathan’s bedchamber and killed him.” He picked up the button and showed it to the constable. “This is an expensive button. It’s not something most gentlemen wear on their clothing. Jonathan didn’t buy buttons like this. You, the doctor, and I don’t buy buttons like this. Servants don’t buy buttons like this. The one person Jonathan knew who wears buttons like this is Lord Hemmington. I verified that by talking to the person who makes these buttons. Why is that not sufficient proof?”
“It’s not sufficient proof because no one saw it under the dresser on the day Jonathan’s body was discovered. We don’t know if that button rolled under the dresser until days or weeks later. And, as much as I hate to say it, you’re the only person saying this button was under the dresser.”
Inspired, Charles said, “My wife saw it, too. She was with me when I found it.”
“How am I supposed to assume you didn’t put it there and waited until she was there to discover it with you?”
“I have no reason to do something like that.”
The constable studied him. “I don’t know what to think. There’s no proof of murder, but it is strange that you’re insistent your friend was killed.”
Charles didn’t like the way this conversation was going. This wasn’t what he expected when he came here. “Are you suggesting I murdered my friend?” he asked in shock.
“No, I don’t believe you killed him.” Before Charles could breathe a sigh of relief, he added, “I don’t believe your friend was murdered. That button might have been under the dresser for a short time or for a long time. It’s impossible to say.”
“What if I go back to the shop and ask Mr. Clancy when he made it?”
“Then all we would know is when he made a button for Lord Hemmington. We wouldn’t know when the button ended up under the dresser. This is all conjecture.” His expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but there’s no judge who will accept the premise of this case. My advice is for you to give up this pursuit. It’s going to get you nowhere. Live your life. Enjoy the people around you who are still living. Embrace the blessings you have.”
“But Lord Hemmington killed my friend. Am I supposed to just let him get away with it?”
“If Lord Hemmington murdered Jonathan—and I don’t believe he did—there isn’t enough proof to convict him of the crime.”
Charles thought for a long moment then asked, “What if Mr. Clancy only made this specific button for Lord Hemmington? What if this is the only one like this in all of London?”
“That would get closer to what you’re looking for, but it still doesn’t mean Lord Hemmington was there on the evening of Jonathan’s death. It also doesn’t mean Lord Hemmington was in the house for Jonathan. He could be a secret lover of the lady you just married.”
“I know for a fact she has no lovers, and she can tell you that as well.”
“And if Lord Hemmington says she was his lover, what then? Or what if your wife is lying so a scandal doesn’t erupt? What if Lord Hemmington let Jonathan borrow his coat? There are many possibilities that still lead us to the same conclusion we are at now.”
In other words, the constable wasn’t going to help him. Charles was on his own. And sadly, he had so little to go by. Just how was he supposed to find definitive proof when one conversation with Lord Hemmington had shown Charles that he made a poor detective? Charles still couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he’d made a mistake somewhere along the way when he was talking to the gentleman. He just couldn’t figure out what the mistake was, and without knowing that, how could he correct for it if he spoke to him again?
“I truly am sorry about your friend’s death,” the constable said. “Maybe it will help if you went to his grave. Have a conversation with him. Tell him the things you didn’t get to say while he was alive. Some people find that helps after losing a loved one. And, something to keep in mind, is that death is only a temporary separation. There is a life after this. You will see him again.”
Charles’ shoulders slumped forward in defeat. So that was it. Even though he had found out who killed his friend, there was nothing he could do. The murderer was going to go free, wasting his days at gaming tables in a gentleman’s club, and there was nothing—nothing at all—that Charles could do about it.
***
Eris stood up from the settee when she saw Byron enter the drawing room. Byron shut the doors, and at once, she knew she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say.
“Charles didn’t do it,” she said. “Whatever you think, you’re wrong.”
His expression grim, he walked over to her. “You need to act prudently.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Charles is not a murderer.”
“Eris, he had locks put in his bedchamber. He put a lock in the door leading to the small room off to the side of the bedchamber, he put a lock on the door connecting your bedchamber with his, and he put a lock on the door that connects the bedchamber to the hallway. Jonathan didn’t have locks. Don’t you find that even a little suspicious?”
“He’s probably a private person. Maybe he’s afraid the servants will come in unexpectedly.”
Byron gave her a skeptical look. “I know you’re trying to hold onto the hope that he’s innocent, but at some point, you have to accept the evidence that’s right in front of you.”
“How are locks on some doors evidence that he killed Jonathan?”
“It’s not evidence he’s a murderer, but he is hiding something.”
She was tempted to remind him about the things Reina had told her, but what good would it do? He had it set in his mind that Charles had married her for the money instead of the fact that he loved her. An idea popped in her head, so she asked, “If he did marry me for money, then why would he put locks on his doors? The money isn’t in his bedchamber.”
“That’s where things fall apart.”
Encouraged, she said, “Then you can’t conclude anything bad about him, can you?”
“Something is wrong. I know it. There’s been something wrong this entire time ever since Jonathan’s death, and I haven’t been able to figure it out. I’ve never had something I couldn’t solve before. Jonathan came to me because he was receiving threatening missives, and he was sure someone was following him.”
“Maybe those things were really happening, and he died anyway. It is possible.”
“Possible but not likely.”
Maybe if she’d been brave enough, she would have gone to Jonathan on their wedding night. Then she would have been there when he died, and she could verify no one had murdered him.
But did any newly married lady go to her husband’s bedchamber? Eris was under the impression that it was the bride’s responsibility to wait for the bridegroom to come to her.
She sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Byron. The last time I saw Jonathan was when he escorted me to my bedchamber. He said he would be with me soon.” She hesitated to add more since it was private, but if it was going to convince him that Charles wasn’t a bad person, then being more forthcoming with personal matters would be worth it. “Halfway into the night, I began to think that he changed his mind. I cried for a while because I thought he didn’t really want to be with me and then I fell asleep. When I woke up, the servants were talking about finding him dead. It never once occurred to me to check on him at any point in the night to see if he was alive.”
“No one would have expected you to do that. No one expected him to die. I thought the person who was threatening him only wanted to scare him. Gentlemen give out threats all the time. Rarely does anyone die as a result.”
After a moment, a thought came to her. “What if Charles put the locks on those doors because he was scared?”
“If you’re suggesting he’s been receiving threatening missives or has someone following him, you’re wrong.”
“No, I wasn’t suggesting that.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “How can you be sure he’s not receiving any threatening missives or being followed?”
He closed his mouth and gave her that stonelike look he’d had when they used to play a game where she had to figure out where he had hidden something.
She gasped. “Have you been following him?”
He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he admitted, “I got suspicious when I came by to visit you and found out you had eloped with him.”
“That’s why you seemed to show up out of nowhere on the day we returned to London. You’ve been keeping a watch over this townhouse.”
“You’re my sister, Eris. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re safe.”
She couldn’t believe it. “You spent all this time trying to convince me that Charles is hiding a horrible secret when you’ve been investigating him.”
“Any brother in my position would have done the same thing. I’m not going to apologize for doing what’s right.”
She crossed her arms. “All right then. Since you’ve been following him, what have you found out that I need to know?”
He sighed. “Nothing, unfortunately. Charles has nothing remotely interesting going on in his life.”
She glared at him.
“Except for you, of course,” her brother added. “If there was something interesting going on before your marriage to him, I missed it. I never imagined you would marry so soon after Jonathan’s death.”
“Well, you’ve searched through the townhouse and didn’t find anything to make you think he’s a horrible person, so can you at least stop treating Charles as if he’s a criminal?”
“I can’t promise you that as long as my instincts are warning me that something isn’t right.”
She groaned. “I don’t know what to tell you, Byron. I’ve run out of patience. I’ve done everything you asked. Charles loves me. He didn’t marry me for money, and he didn’t murder Jonathan. Whatever your instincts are telling you, it can’t be that Charles did something wrong.”
“What I know is that he’s somehow involved in something.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. She just couldn’t! She stormed to the doors of the drawing room and flung them open. “I want you to leave. I need some time away from you.”
She was afraid he was going to argue with her, but, thankfully, he headed for the doorway.
Before he crossed the threshold, he paused and turned to her. “Please don’t tell anyone about our conversations today.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you worried Charles won’t like you if I do?”
“No. I don’t care if he likes me or not. My job isn’t to be liked. My job is to solve crimes. There’s no telling what will happen if Charles finds out anything I’ve told you today.”
“I can’t keep this from him forever.”
“Then keep this to yourself for the next few weeks. I’ll make a deal with you.” He lowered his voice. “One month. Give me one month to do some more investigating. In that time, if I still can’t reach any conclusions, you can tell Charles everything.”
“I hate keeping something like this from him.”
“I know you do, but I have to make sure you’re safe. Just in case Charles isn’t the person you think he is, you have to be careful. Someone who has something to hide can become violent if they suspect they’ve been discovered.”
“You’ve already told me that.”
“I’m telling you again so you’ll be careful. Do this for me because I’m your brother. You’re the only family I have left, Eris. I couldn’t bear it if something bad happened to you.”
“I’ll give you one month,” she agreed. “But that’s all I’m doing, Byron. After that, you have to put this whole thing behind you.”
“I will. A month is all I need.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll speak with you soon.”
She offered him a nod then watched as he left.